True Power
by nine miles to go
Summary: Sequel to "Emotionless Lighters." It's been seven years since the destruction of the Embassy; enough time for the lighters, especially Chris, to adjust to their new lives. But they'd better not adjust too soon...a new threat lurks on the horizon.
1. Wyatt Did It

True Power 

Chapter One: Wyatt's Obsession

* * *

Chris 

"You sure you know what you're doing?" I ask Wyatt reproachfully, surveying the scattered potions on his table in the Magic School's library. Something about his little experiment just doesn't seem so safe.

Wyatt's permanently down-turned eyebrows frown even deeper. "I'm older than you. I would know. Do you think just because you were so special when you were little means that you're more powerful than me now?" He smirks triumphantly at me, thinking he's made some sort of a point by reminding me of my status in the magical community.

I merely shrug it off. "Just asking," I say lightly, turning my back on him. It's easy for me to just shrug off his cruel words, because I was sort of born like that after growing up around elders back before I destroyed the Embassy six years ago. I'm thirteen now, and Wyatt's fifteen. We're not exactly the ideal pair of brothers.

When I was seven, I was powerful enough to bring down the entire Embassy and then some. Wyatt, of course, hated me immediately. Aunt Phoebe said that back then I not only demonstrated empathic powers, I could shield myself and harness enough energy to blow people up and cause entire earthquakes. But now my only powers are premonition and empathy.

And Wyatt only hates me about half as much as he did before, which still isn't so great. Once he realized I was moving in…I shudder. That was NOT a happy moment. It took him months to accept the fact that we were brothers. Day after day, he'd play every prank in the book and try every little crafty way to bring me down or make me look back.

The down side to that? It worked.

Piper and Leo, as gracious as they were for taking me in after realizing my origins, seem to think that I'm a bit of a troublemaker. It's not all that bad, though, because I know that Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige still believe in me. Whatever they think, it's a lot better compared to my old life at the Embassy. That place was hell.

"Class starts in, like, five minutes," I remind him, staring absent-mindedly at the clock.

"So go," he sneers. "What are you hanging around here for anyways, loser?"

I bite my lip to keep from saying, _To make sure you don't blow this place up! _I hate it when Wyatt starts working on his stupid power-enhancement spells and potions. For one thing, they never work. For another thing, they always end up causing trouble. And, of course, I'm blamed. But, instead, I shrug at him again. "Dunno. Guess I'll see you later, then."

I sling my book bag over my shoulder, exiting the library and closing the large wooden doors just as some kind of explosion erupts at his table. With a sigh, I continue on my way to class and manage to slide into my seat merely moments before the bell rings.

The teacher, among the few that Paige appointed after becoming headmistress at Magic School, cocks an eyebrow at me. "Mr. Halliwell," she warns, giving me a sharp look.

I shrug nonchalantly. I shrug at everything, generally, and I can tell you that it tends to get on peoples' nerves. The teachers all think I could care less about my studies, but that's because they have no idea that I was among the fourteen saved from the Embassy back then. They have no idea that I've already covered all that they're teaching us and had far surpassed their level at the age of three. So Magic School's pretty much a joke to me—I sit there, get good grades, perplex a few teachers that were certain that I'd never paid attention in class. That's life.

I pride myself in the fact that I'm still miles ahead of Wyatt in intelligence despite my lack of power.

"Sorry," I mumble, taking out my spell book.

She points at the class schedule. "We're covering potions this morning," she corrects me, scowling at the book. "Put that away and pay attention."

I nod, wordlessly placing the book back in the bag and retrieving the new one. These teachers are so crabby. They're always trying to pinpoint us for doing anything wrong out of sheer enjoyment—no, really, I've read their emotions and searched through their minds enough times to find out.

"Close call," Hal, my potions partner, whispers in a tone that only one of the previous lighters could decipher. She was also one of the original fourteen, and the only one in my age category. She wears glasses but only for vanity reasons, since her eyesight was trained to see for miles back at the Embassy. Hal looks pretty average, sort of like me, with brown hair and brown eyes and a few freckles. We can relate to each other, since we had to endure the same torture with the elders.

"Wyatt," I mutter back. "Minds."

She nods knowingly and we revert to telepathy instead, just in case the teacher notices that we're not all too attentive of her basic potion-teaching. Ever since we were all really little, the lighters were able to use telepathy to communicate with one another.

_What's he up to now? _She asks me, mild amusement flicking through her expression. I gotta tell you, sometimes Hal scares me. After seven years of suppressing her emotions because of the elders, she adjusted into the modern emotional world like flipping a light switch. For the others and myself, it hasn't been as easy.

_Nothing good. The usual, with all those stupid "I'm gonna be so powerful" ploys, _I respond, rolling my eyes.

She frowns. _I really think he's messed up. _

_Wait till you live with him, _I joke.

"Chris, since you were barely on time this morning, how about you tell us what this next ingredient is?"

My head snaps to the board, reading the directions in less that a millisecond and respond, "Dandelion roots," flawlessly as can be.

Her entire frame seems to tense. "That's right," she says icily, obviously disappointed that she couldn't catch me off guard. No one can catch me off guard in Magic School, that's for sure.

The door to the classroom opens and Paige walks in, clearing her throat. "Uh, Janet—I mean, Mrs. Darson, we have a bit of a problem…"

"Oh, do you need me for something?" asks the teacher.

I sink into my seat a little when Aunt Paige's gaze falls on me. "Actually, no…Could I borrow Chris for a moment, please?"

The teacher almost smirks with triumph. "Surely. Halikar will inform him of our lesson when he returns."

Hal winces at the sound of her full name; I wince as well, anticipating the wonderful antics of Wyatt for only the hundredth time this month.

"Chris," sighs Aunt Paige, closing the classroom door once we're safe in the hallway. "Your brother…was…messing around this morning. Again. You knew of this, right?" she questions.

It's not like I'm going to lie to her. "Yes, I was there," I say honestly. "But I had nothing to do with it," I add.

"I know, but you know you're supposed to tell us if he starts screwing around with magic like that," she persists. "He could've blown up half the school! Wyatt's nothing but a machine of destruction, nowadays, Chris. I'm counting on you to warn us. Why didn't you say anything?"

I shrug. She glowers at the gesture I use all too often so I tell her, "Look, what Wyatt does is Wyatt's decision. I can't interfere. Besides, does it look like I want to get on Wyatt's bad side? Like you said—he's a '_machine of destruction.' _I am destruct-able on his radar."

Paige's eyes grow wide. "Wyatt would never intentionally hurt you," she said, though I can see the doubt in her eyes.

I suppress my laugh with a little cough. "Excuse me," I apologize. "What I mean is…you know. He's Wyatt. You don't want to get on his bad side, and anyways, he made me swear not to tell you anything."

She groans. "Whatever, mister. You're just lucky I'm not telling Piper this time. She'd blow a gasket."

"Thanks," I say gratefully.

"But I am telling her about Wyatt's little potion mess. You wanna see what he did to that table? Oh, yeah. You can't. There is no table!" she exclaims with fake, forced joy before rolling her eyes at me. "Get back to class. I'll see you later at the manor, okay? And remember to meet Mel at the nursery after school to pick up Brandon."

"Sure," I respond. "See ya later."

"See ya, sport," she says, orbing out with a little wave.

I sigh. Just the beginning of another lovely day at Magic School. I open my mind, sending out the telepathic message to ten other children…_Library's busted. Meeting on the bridge. _

And even though the message is greeted by silence, I know that everyone hears.

* * *

Wyatt

I'm seething with anger and disappointment. It's not fair! Why don't the damn potions and spells ever work and make me more powerful? If I'm ever going to show the world who's boss, I need to master this. It shouldn't be so hard. After all, I am the most powerful being in the world. And once I gain enough power…I can stop all those that may potentially stand in my way.

Like Chris.

The moment I orbed into my bedroom to find him, I knew that my life had been changed forever. Now I wasn't the almighty strong one. I had competition, a little element I wasn't quite accustomed to. And no matter what I did—no matter how many times I tried to break him down, convince him he was pathetic—he was always there. He still is here. Nothing bothers him, he's always just ignoring my attempts with a little shrug. How can somebody be so indifferent about it?

I could never admit the real reason why the little sucker is still breathing: I can't kill him. I've tried, trust me when I tell you that I've tried to kill my brother. But there's always some force protecting him that he never quite took down after coming from that damned Embassy, like he's always got some advantage that I can't explain.

Why wasn't I chosen to train Up There? What made him better than me? How much power does he truly possess? I'm always keeping tabs on him, making sure that it doesn't grow. I need to make a potion that works. I need to eliminate him before it's too late.

Which is the reason I'm standing on the Golden Gate Bridge right now, hidden by an invisibility potion that we had in stock in the attic cabinet. I was able to intercept his little telepathic message through a spell I put on his mind. I can intercept little tidbits every now and then, and his message to the other Embassy children, since it was so loud to reach them all, came out loud and clear.

One by one, they all pop up onto the Bridge by spell or potion. Chris poofs in by spell with a few of them and they count heads: ten kids plus Mel, Bran and Bree. A spell protects them all from falling off with a barrier. I hide, balancing on a pillar, and watch.

There were originally fifteen kids in this little Embassy of theirs. Two of them died—one of them apparently very close to Chris, but he's never talked about it. Not that I'd ever care. And then two of them completely ignored all of magic when they were reunited with their parents. The oldest of them, Annabelle Tearsh, is a full-time teacher at Magic School now, appointed by Aunt Paige.

I hate every one of them. They all make me feel inferior with their knowledge and secrecy, a silent understanding radiating between them all from their shared past. When I gain my power…they'll all be the first on my list if they don't cooperate.

"Hey, Mel," an Embassy girl, Chris' age, greets my cousin. I roll my eyes. They treat Mel and the twins as if they're one of them, even though the Embassy was long since destroyed by the time the twins were born.

"Hello, Hal!" Mel says excitedly, a huge grin on her face as the wind blows up her blonde curls. Mel's all about adventure and risk, like her mother, Aunt Phoebe. It gets her in trouble a lot.

I love it when someone else is in trouble.

"Everyone here?" asks Chris, holding the hands of Bran and Bree. He counts the heads along the beam of the bridge and nods in satisfaction. "Okay. Now that we're all here, I think we should all give reports on our powers—"

They're always giving reports, just in case something from the Embassy went whacked. Every now and then they'll all have strange power surges, usually starting with the youngest of them all the way up to Annabelle. Chris is basically their leader now, even though he doesn't have all the powers he used to. In fact, all of his powers are dormant now, asleep. I love taunting him, telling him that they're gone forever…but I must hide my fear, for I'm the only one that can still sense them within him. I don't think he uses them unless he really needs them.

One of the girls, maybe ten or so, raises her hand. "I finally got a power," she says giddily, expression full of pride. "Back up," she says to the kid behind her. He steps out of the way and she closes her eyes and falls back, lifeless.

There is no collective gasp, because magic as extreme as this is seen pretty often among them. She's visiting other worlds—the dead, the demonic, the spiritual—though I doubt that her journeys are too dangerous if the power is new. Eventually she rises, in her hands carrying a shining jewel. "See? I can go to other worlds now and even take things back."

"Wow," says Chris, encouraging her. "That's awesome, Lau—"

A sickening crack erupts from under everyone's feet. I frown, looking down and realizing that the bridge is literally collapsing from underneath us. I gasp, orbing away.

The little freaks can surely fend for themselves.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Hey, everyone! Here's the sequel. It'll get better, trust me. This chapter was sorta blah blah since I had to reintroduce a lot of themes. RnR, pretty please! I wanna know what everyone thinks of it so far.


	2. Mixed Up Consciences

Phoebe 

"What are you thinking we should do for dinner?" I ask David, my husband. "Piper and the boys are coming over for supper."

Sitting next to me on the living room couch, he frowns as if deep in thought even though I can tell he's mocking my food obsession. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe just not poison this time, hm?"

"Oh, c'mon, my cooking isn't that bad!" I protest for probably the fifteenth millionth time in my life, slapping him playfully on the arm.

We met after my break-up with Les, my ghost-writer, after he interviewed me for his news channel. David works in the media as well, only on television. It ties him up sometimes but he's done wonders in handling his career and our children, Mel, Les' daughter, and Bran and Bree, our twin son and daughter. I'm amazed that a mortal like himself can so easily cope with magic.

"Whatever you say, honey." He grins, kicking up his feet and resting them on the coffee table. We moved into his parent's home years ago, after we got married, since his parents were dead and the house was rightfully his. Luckily, the manor is a mere three miles away. "So," he continues. "Looks like we've got a lull in the newsroom till the evening news begins…it seems as if Chris is watching the kids again…what do you want to do?" he asks.

I roll my eyes at his suggestive glance. "I dunno. Are the dishes done? Kitchen cleaned? Laundry folded…?"

"No, no and…no," he responds. "Do we care?"

"No!" We're leaning in to kiss each other when his cell phone rings, causing us both to jump.

"That's my emergency line," he says with a frown. "I'd better take this—sorry." He clicks open the cell phone. "Hello? Yeah, it's—what? Huh? Slow down, Carrie. All right. Okay. Shit, are you kidding me? No way! The bridge? That can't be…sure, I'll be right over."

"What was that all about?" I demand as soon as he's hung up.

He turns to face me, his face as pale as a sheet. "Honey, where are the kids?"

I stare at him incredulously. "Why? What's happened?"

He gulps. "The Golden Gate Bridge just collapsed."

There's a moment of sickening realization that pulses through the room. "You don't think…?"

"We haven't heard from them since the beginning of the day. I think they were up there, Pheebs. Oh my god. Call Leo, do something…there's not much I can do anyway, I need to get to the station or I'll lose my job."

"Right," I say numbly, nodding. "LEO!" I scream out. "LEO!"

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Leo 

Piper and I are busy waiting on edge in the kitchen for Wyatt to orb in so we can give him a short lecture on his potion mess from this morning when I hear Phoebe's scream. It's coming from her house—and it sounds pretty desperate. I grab Piper's hand.

"That's Phoebe," I explain. "Something's up, and it sounds bad."

"What?"

In an instant we're swirling through the cosmos and planted on the carpet of Phoebe's living room. I can see right away through her widened, fearful eyes and strained voice that it must be big—I brace myself for the news, hoping that it's not going to affect our family.

"The Golden Gate Bridge," she says breathlessly. "It collapsed! The bridge!"

"Oh my god," Piper gasps. "That's horrible. Wow. My god…What happened to it?"

"No, no, no!" Phoebe cries. "That's not it! Mel and the twins and Chris—they must be up there, Piper! We haven't heard from them. They trained up there sometimes with the other lighters. The bridge collapsed while they were on it!"

I feel as if my heart's been squeezed. My brain turns perpetually numb and the words coming from my mouth feel like sand on my tongue. "Other lighters? The bridge? I—what are you talking about? Chris didn't tell us anything about…"

"There's no time! You've got to do something, Leo. Orb over there, make sure that they weren't—that they're not—"

I nod, my instincts finally catching up with me. "Wyatt!" I call.

He orbs into the room, looking a little paler than usual. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Orb to the bay by the Golden Gate Bridge. Don't ask questions," I say hurriedly, too distracted by the weight of this incident to realize that there wasn't any distortion on his face in the first place. "Save as many of the kids as you can."

I orb out, leaving my distressed wife and sister-in-law in my wake.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Chris

I've got the twins hands in mine and I'm kicking furiously to get to the surface. Finally, that rush of air…we gulp it greedily for a moment while our heads bob up, only to be sucked back under by a wave caused by the bridge's crumbling. A pillar smacked my head on the way down; I vaguely feel the warmth of the blood, but nothing else in my state of panic. I know that the other kids got out through their spells and potions—they could will themselves onto dry land. All of them, that is, except for me.

I had a potion to get back, and it was obviously destroyed as we plummeted downward. I clutch the hands of Bree and Bran tighter still, trying to work my way towards shore and trying with all my might to summon the orbs that have so long been out of my reach. Why can't I just be able to orb this once, to get us out of the danger? If only we'd stayed in the library…if only I'd stopped Wyatt this morning…

It's too late for that, I tell myself, kicking harder. Suddenly the twins turn a bright color of blue. My heart surges with relief and I realize that it's my own power that has rescued them…but isn't enough to take me out, too. Without their burden, though, I can swim much more freely.

Waves pound at me, lapping over my head once more. Finally I manage to doggie paddle my way towards the shore, finally collapsing on the rocks of the Bay.

After a few gulps of air I slowly stand, whipping my head around in desperate search. Wet and shivering a few feet ahead are Mel and the twins—apparently my orbs forced her out of the swell as well. I sigh, thanking everything good for the orbs that saved them.

"Everyone all right?" I manage to gasp, stumbling towards them.

Mel nods slightly, face pale with shock. "The bridge. How did it just…go boom like that?"

Bree clings to my leg with tears in her eyes. "Why?" she repeats quietly. "We didn't do anything, did we?"

"I don't know," I say gravely. "Maybe our combined weight…"

Mel shook her head. "That wouldn't be enough to send an entire bridge full of cars down into the Bay, Chris. But it was definitely magic. I could tell."

"Look, it doesn't matter. We're all okay," I say mostly to reassure myself. "The other lighters must have gotten out or they'd be sending out telepathic messages." I hold back tears when I think of the people driving out on the bridge that fell into the Bay, but I know it's not my place to save them. Magic can only help you so much before you risk exposure.

We can hear sirens in the distance as everyone responds to the tragedy, rushing onto the scene. I hang my head low in shame. "Let's go get dried off somewhere, guys."

"You're bleeding," Mel notices, concerned.

"I got hit by a piece of metal—I'm fine, though. We're lucky."

"I know," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her normally rebellious, get-out-and-take-risk nature seems to be suppressed by the strange, surreal impact of what's just happened.

"Chris? Mel, Bree, Bran!" I turn around and see my father rushing from behind us to catch up. "What the hell is wrong with you, being on that bridge?" he cries. "Thank god you're all okay! What happened? Where are the other lighters? Oh, you scared me to death…"

"We don't know what happened," I say truthfully. "One minute the bridge was there, and then…it just fell."

"We were protected up there by our magic, shielded from sight through a barrier," Mel adds, "so it couldn't have been anything we did, Uncle Leo."

My father turns to face me again, grave and disappointed. "I'd have thought you knew better, Chris, than to meet with your little friends up there."

I bite back a rush of anger. Anger—see, that's all new to me, too. Suddenly a harsh gust of wind pierces the air, practically sweeping Leo off his feet. I step back, knowing at once it was my doing.

The powers must be returning.

But he can't stand there and question my judgment as if I'm the messed up child in the family, he can't call the lighters my "little friends" like we were all a part of a dainty book club. He has _no right._

Startled, Leo picks himself up off the ground. "What the…" His eyes flash over to me, but he visibly squashes the thought. "Aftershock," he mutters. "Meet me at the manor. Think about your irresponsibility," he says icily, pointedly orbing Mel and the twins away and leaving me alone.

I've never felt so distant from this world even with the chaos and wreckage, tragedy and destruction all around me. It couldn't have been our fault. We did nothing to cause such a disaster, did we?

_This could have been my fault, _a voice in my head whispers evilly, hissing like a snake. My ears perk. It seems so real…or is it my conscience? _I did this. I made it happen. It's my fault. _

I crouch down to my knees in the sand, burying my head in my hands and feeling the warmth of my own blood on my fingertips. "I didn't mean it," I choke, "I couldn't have…"

_But I did. _

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Wyatt 

I watch from a nearby bench as my father leaves Chris on the side of the shore to deal with everything by himself and suppress a grin. Don't want to look too suspicious. Because I know, no matter what the mortals will blame the catastrophe on and no matter how much blame Chris receives, I did it. My power, my rage caused for that bridge to go down.

I am powerful enough to kill him, I'm sure. Just not yet.

For the first time, though, I see Chris weaker than ever before. His feet seem to fall out from under him, as if he's sinking. His hands shield his face from his surroundings and I can hear his open gasps and sobs as blood trickles down his face and splatters onto the sand.

I look closer and see the faint outline of a man at his side, almost like a ghost. This time I can't help but grin—maybe I don't have to destroy him, after all.

Barbas can take care of that.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

A/N—I would like to clear up that yes, this is the original past, not the fixed one. Thank you for all your support, guys! Sorry it's been a long time since I've updated. Semester exam week of hell, if you catch my drift. It's all over now, though…phew! TBC.


	3. Considering the Truth

True Power

Chapter Three: Considering the Truth

* * *

Piper

Phoebe's dinner table is dead silent, two chairs at the end left empty. The twins dutifully pick at the food on their plates and Mel solemnly stares down at her lap. Phoebe is fidgeting with the frilly tassels on her shirt sleeve and David is watching her absent-mindedly. Leo, sitting beside me, is shaking, either from rage or worry or some strange mixture of emotions I've never seen come from him before.

Whatever way you put it, the grand meal that is set before us is being ignored.

"Where are the boys?" I ask Leo quietly.

"I don't know," he snaps. "How would I know? I don't know!"

"Excuse me," I mutter, finally giving up on food and walking over to Phoebe's dishwasher so I can empty it before the load from dinner goes in. It makes a good distraction. "The least you could do is call them."

"I called Wyatt. He's at the manor. Busy, he said," Leo informs me.

Phoebe clears her throat in surprise. "Busy? With what?"

"Probably homework." Leo meets her skeptical gaze. "What? Are you accusing my son of doing something wrong?"

Phoebe jumps up in her chair a bit, straightening her back. "N-no—"

"Because there's nothing wrong with Wyatt, got it? He's a teenager. He had a little mishap this morning, but he knows what he's doing," Leo says confidently.

"Leo…" I say warningly. "You have to admit that it's been more than one little mishap from this morning. Wyatt's been a little out of control lately. Maybe we should go check on him."

"My son doesn't need to be checked on," he persists.

"Where's Chris, then?" I question Leo. "We haven't heard from him since the collapse this afternoon. What happened to him?"

"He's thinking about his irresponsibility. He should never have brought Mel and the twins on that bridge."

Mel drops her fork and pulls out her chair, standing up to face Leo. Her face is bright red and she appears to be holding in every urge to cuss Leo into oblivion. "Y-you know what, Uncle Leo?" she stutters. "You d-don't get it, okay? You just don't get it. Chris is the only one that teaches us anything. Just shut up, okay? Just shut up."

"Mel—" David gasps.

"I don't want to hear it," she hisses, stomping up the stairs. All is silent until we hear a door slam from her bedroom.

"Maybe I was a little hard on him," Leo admits.

"Leo, Chris can't even orb. How do you expect him to get back home? What you did was downright cruel—you left him in the middle of San Francisco without a ride or money or anything, for that matter."

"I'll go get him," he says sheepishly.

We wait for him to orb out. His eyes close in concentration, sensing for Chris. Finally he frowns at us.

"I can't sense him anywhere."

One of Phoebe's plates slip out of my hand and crashes to the floor before I can freeze it. "Try again," I demand.

"I can't," Leo says, panicking. "He's not on the radar. He's either in another world or…"

The twins glare at Leo in anger, simultaneously rising from the table to join Mel and whispering something to each other in urgent little peeps.

"Or dead," Phoebe finishes once they leave. "Oh, Leo, what have you done?"

* * *

Chris

When I finally open my eyes and straighten myself, I'm shocked to see that I'm no longer on the beach. The sirens have faded and the chaos has been replaced by dark, musty cave walls radiating a terrible stench of death. Immediately I realize I must be in the Underworld. My senses snap on in a heartbeat and I leap to my feet.

"Who are you?" I demand, knowing that there was no way I could've ended up here myself.

A soft chuckle came from behind me. I whip around and see nothing.

"Show yourself, coward," I accuse, focusing on the spot from which the laugh came from. A demon forms next to me, looking mousy with gray hair and yellowed teeth.

"No reason to panic," he says airily, his voice sickly sweet. "We're in the Underworld, my boy. But surely you figured that out by now."

"Take me back."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Don't threaten me," he laughs when I raise my hands. "You're a fool of a boy without a shred of power to your name. Even I can see that—but I also see potential that you're wasting. No, you're not leaving the Underworld. Do you think you could go back after what you did?" He leans in a little closer to me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "That's right, Chris. The bridge. No one will ever treat you the same…"

"What happened wasn't my fault," I insist, though my voice wavers. "You get away from me!"

"Ah, it seems as if you don't want to face the truth. Well, when you're ready, I suppose we'll begin your training. Until then…" He shrugs. "Enjoy the misery of being all alone."

He pops out, but I remain still. Training? Does he expect me to work for him or something? I grimace, but make no attempt to escape. This demon is powerful, and for all I know he's still in the room.

"Thanks a lot, Leo," I mutter, throwing my back against the wall to sit in disgust. "You never could believe me."

* * *

Leo

"I'll get the scrying crystals," David volunteers, knowing that it's the only assistance he can offer. He scurries out of the room. I watch him go, suddenly envious. His kids aren't messed up—they're all perfectly fine upstairs. Well, actually, they're downright pissed off…but that's my problem, too.

"Paige!" Phoebe calls. "Paige—!"

Paige orbs down, a little flustered. "What? Something else happen?" She looks around the table. "Where's Wyatt? Did he—"

"No, Wyatt didn't do anything," I say for the millionth time, it seems. "I can't sense Chris. He's missing completely."

"What? What do you mean, Chris is missing?" Suddenly she's gone pale; I imagine her expression matches my own as we realize what this means. "How could he be missing?"

"Leo abandoned him," Piper says simply, though the anger in her voice could be heard from miles away. She stares at me as if thinking what an easy target I'd make for blowing up. I feel myself beginning to sweat.

Where could Chris be? What would happen if we never found him? What if he really was…dead? I shake the thought off. This is Chris we're talking about. Chris wouldn't let anything kill him, he was too smart for that. Wasn't he?

"Abandoned him?" Paige asks.

"Ditched him in the middle of San Francisco right after the bridge collapsed," Phoebe explains.

"I heard about that. But what does Chris have anything to do with it?"

"They were out training on the bridge when it happened," says Phoebe, eyes meeting Paige's. So, they knew about their little training sessions. They didn't bother to tell Piper or me about the meetings with the other kids from the Embassy, figuring it was all dandy and safe.

"You knew," I accuse.

"We did," Paige says carefully. "We always knew. They were never hurting anyone. I don't think they had anything to do with it—they've been meeting up there for years, and in the library, too."

"And you didn't tell us?"

Phoebe shrugs. "You didn't seem too eager to know. Thanks," she says to David as he comes back with the crystals and the map. She turns back to me. "Besides, Leo, I hate to say this, but we were afraid you wouldn't understand."

"And we were right. You didn't," Paige adds.

My fists clench. "You never gave me a chance to understand."

"Yes, we did. You were always so intent on blaming Chris for things that were Wyatt's fault, that we thought we shouldn't give you an opportunity to blame him for anything else. Look at what you just did to him! You left him all alone and now some demon's probably—"

Piper drops something loudly in the sink. "Just start scrying," she commands, eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Find him. Call Wyatt to help."

"Wyatt!" I call. "Wyatt! Wyatt, we need you!"

I can sense Wyatt. He's still at the bridge…but he's not answering. I orb out to see what he's doing.

And then I see him: my son, standing, staring at the wreckage and turmoil, his face curled into a sickening, pleased smile.

That's when I know that Phoebe and Paige are absolutely right. None of this was Chris' fault.

It was Wyatt's.

* * *

Chris 

I realize upon opening my eyes that I must have fallen asleep. Was it a dream? The bridge and the demon?

I look around. Nope, it was never a dream. It was very much real and now I'm trapped inside some ugly demon's lair without a hair of a chance of escaping.

And I can't move, either.

I look down and realize my wrists and ankles are chained to the floor uncomfortably. The skin is raw and throbbing, obviously from squirming when I wasn't awake. Well, this sucks, because now not only can I not get out, I can't make any means to defend myself when that demon comes back.

"Awake, now, are we?"

Speak of the devil. "What the hell do you want from me?" I demand.

"I believe I made that very clear. I want your cooperation and your power."

"Go look somewhere else, you bastard," I tell him. "I don't have any power. I see the future and feel emotions. Big whoop. Let me go, would you?"

The demon cackles under his breath. "No power? Aren't you the boy that blew up the entire Embassy?" He pauses, obviously glad to have surprised me with his knowledge. "Yes, that's right. I know everything about you, Chris Halliwell, including that you have many, many powers yet to be unleashed."

"Why do you know so much about me?" I ask. "Why can't you just use Wyatt?"

"I make it my business to know things about people. And I can't use your brother because his powers have already chosen a destiny for him. Yours, however, are quite neutral."

My eyes widen. "Wyatt's—"

"Evil," the demon finishes for me. "That's right. Surprising? I shouldn't think so. I will admit that it was your brother that sent the bridge hurtling down, not you—but the point I'm trying to make is, you have enough power to do so much more than that."

"I'm not evil like you, you scum."

"You say that, Chris, but even you know your mind is conflicted. You're thinking, 'The elders were supposed to be good, and look what they did to us.' You're thinking about all the doubts your parents have about you, all the times they've blamed you. Deep in your subconscious, you know that you're not ready to completely sentence yourself to good. And that's why I'm here. To take your doubts and mold them into something so much better."

"Evil," I hiss.

"Power," he corrects me.

"I don't have any doubts about whether I'm going to be good or evil," I tell him, "so you can find some other kid and annoy them."

"Think about it," he orders me, blinking out of the room.

And despite my struggle against it, I do think about it. Everything he said was true. Was good really supposed to be all about people doubting and blaming you for every deed gone wrong? Was good really supposed to be sixteen children trapped Up There, two of them now dead? Was good really supposed to be evil like Wyatt sneaking around?

I know I could never assist a demon…but maybe good isn't all that it was cracked up to be.

* * *

TBC

I am so so so so so sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I've totally been busy. I've got swim team and babysitting and community service for school and National Junior Honors Society work plus all this homework and a million projects, so I've beenall over the place this past month or so. I just managed to squeeze this chapter in this morning because, you know, it's Easter, and I don't have to be ANYWHERE. Whew, does that feel good. And if one of my sibs doesn't demand their turn on the computer, maybe I'll be able to update a second time...or at least start half a chappie.

Anyways, thank you so much for all these great reviews! I totally don't deserve them after not updating for so long, but you all make me feel so special! Lol. Well, until next time...

Pink-Charmed-One


	4. Help is on the Way

True Power

Chapter Four: Help is on the Way

* * *

Paige

"Any luck, Pheebs?" I ask.

"No," she says angrily, frowning down at the map. "He's not in San Francisco anymore, that's for sure."

I sigh. "I can't believe Leo…" My eyes wander around the room. "Hey, where is he, anyway?"

"Looking for Wyatt," Piper says. Her eyes widen. "Hey, it's been, like, ten minutes. Where could he be?" She pauses. "Leo? Leo!"

He orbs back.

"Where's Wyatt?" she demands.

"Piper…" he says slowly. His eyes are streaked with tears. "You were right. Chris didn't do anything. Wyatt…Wyatt made the bridge collapse."

"What?" Piper nearly shrieks.

My heart sinks, but somehow I know that it's true. Wyatt did it. He had to have done it. Who else could harness all that power, split the bridge so cleanly? Who else would have such cruel intentions but the one person that most envied the lighters?

He'd been trying to murder them all. It's so clear to me now, hitting me like a lightning bolt. Wherever Chris was, he was probably dead, and it was probably Wyatt's fault.

Dead. Chris was probably _dead. _Were these really computable thoughts? Were they actually running through my head? How could Chris, my nephew, the closest thing to a son I'd ever even had, be dead?

And how could Wyatt, that cute little boy that we'd loved relentlessly for so many years, be the one that tried to kill him?

"I—I know that—" Leo stutters. "I know this is hard to believe, but—"

"Hard to believe!" Piper screams. "Hard to _believe_! Leo, Wyatt couldn't—Wyatt would never—" She buried her head in her hands. "It can't be true," she sobbed through her sleeves. "How could Wyatt make the entire bridge collapse?"

"I don't know," Leo admits, "but just now, at the bridge…he was smiling, Piper, and that's when I knew. He had to have done it. It all makes sense."

"No, no, no, it doesn't make sense. He's my little boy, Leo. I raised him. He can't be evil. Oh, what did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," I assure her. "Wyatt…maybe it's just a phase. We've never had that much power concentrated in one teenager before."

"Then what will happen to Chris?" Piper wonders aloud. "If one son turns evil, what will happen to the other one? Oh, my god, please tell me this isn't happening…"

"I have an idea."

I looked up, startled by the new voice. Sure enough, there's Mel, standing in her pajamas at the bottom of the stairs.

"What's the idea?" asks Phoebe, lifting her face from the scrying map.

"The other lighters may be able to communicate with Chris if he's still out there," she explains. "Should we summon Hal from Magic School?"

"That's a great idea, honey," I commend her. "I'll get right on it. She should be at home with her parents."

I orb out.

* * *

Hal

"Hal, dinner's ready," my mother calls.

"Okay," I call back, staring out the window of our San Francisco apartment. It's more a complex for single people focused on their careers, really, and not a complex where there should be kids like me. That's what my mom was, though: a single woman focused on her career. She had a husband, then me, then I was kidnapped and Mr. What's-his-name divorced her in the seven years or so that I was missing.

I wonder if what's-his-name will ever know I'm back. That I'm alive and well, sitting on the window seat of the apartment he used to live in when he was married. Would he care? Would he ever want to meet me?

Not that it matters at all, anyway.

"Hal?"

"Sorry, coming."

"Hal, there's someone here to see you."

"Someone here to….?"

It couldn't be Chris or any of the other lighters. My mom agreed that Magic School was okay, but she didn't like having to see the other lighter children. It made her twitch for some reason, like we were staying isolated as we had been Up There just by staying in contact with one another.

It isn't any of them, just as I thought—it's the headmistress, Chris' aunt, Paige Matthews.

"Um, hi," I manage. "Did I do something…?"

"Hal, why don't you introduce us?" asks my mom in a strained voice.

I blush, realizing I've left her out in the cold. Well, it's partly her fault. Shouldn't she know who the headmistress of my school is? "Oh, sorry. Mom, this is Paige Matthews. She's headmistress at Magic School. Ms. Matthews, this is my mom."

"Nice to meet you," says Paige, looking slightly flustered. "Hal," she says, tone changing to one of urgency, "I need your help. Have you seen Chris anywhere?"

I shake my head. "No, not since the bridge. What happened?"

"He's missing and Leo can't sense him anywhere. We were hoping you might be able to—"

"Connect with him? Let me try," I offer. I close my eyes and open up my mind. No, he's definitely not on this plane, not on earth. I open my mind wider, and then wider still.

I've found him.

_Chris? Chris, where the hell are you? _

* * *

Chris 

I hear Hal's voice and at first I think I'm imagining it. Then I hear it again, prodding me back into reality. Hal is really there, communicating with me. This is my only connection with the outside world.

_Hal, you have no idea how great it feels to hear your voice, _I respond.

_Where are you? Paige is, um, in my house, looking for you. _

_Wow. They noticed I was missing? _I scoff. _Leo ditched me right after the bridge collapsed, and lucky me, I got myself captured by some demon. Isn't that so typical? Ugh. _

_Aw, quit whining, we'll get you out, _Hal assures me.

_How? This demon seems pretty intent on turning me evil. I think he's Barbas, that demon from the Book of Shadows. He messes with peoples' fears and consciences and stuff. And he's got me chained to the floor. _

_Chained to the floor? _

_Are you LAUGHING? Hal, shut up! This is so not funny! _

_Sorry, sorry, sorry. _She chokes back half of a laugh before continuing. _The almighty Chris, chained to the floor. Okay, seriously, I've got you located. I'll try to help Paige and your family reach you. _

_Thanks. _

_You're welcome. _

_Oh, and Hal?_

_Yeah? _

_Hurry. _

_Why? _

_Because the demon's back and he's looking awfully pissed off. _

_Okay. _She pauses. _Chris? Chris, are you still there? Hey, Chris? Chris? _

She doesn't get an answer. Barbas has conveniently cut off our connection by sending a great flaming ball at my head. I immediately lose consciousness.

* * *

Hal

"He's…gone," I say once I try a few times to reconnect with him.

"Gone?" asks Paige.

"I mean, I got a decent pinpoint on his location, but then he just stopped responding."

"That can't be good. What'd he say?"

"He was kidnapped by some demon named Barbas that wants to turn him evil. He's chained, too," I add. Only it's not so funny anymore with him not responding to my telepathic messages. "I think that if I can get to Leo and send Chris' location through my thoughts to him, he'll be able to orb down easier then you since he's an elder. Where is he?"

"At Phoebe's house. I'll orb you," says Paige gratefully.

I look to my mom for permission.

"Hurry back, honey," she says reluctantly. "And be careful."

"I will."

I take Paige's hand and orb out.

"Hello, Hal," Leo greets me when we arrive in their kitchen.

"…Hi," I say to him in a strained voice. _Chris-ditcher! This is all your fault! _I bite my tongue, though. I'm not that stupid. "Here. I can send you the location through my thoughts. Barbus has Chris in the Underworld."

"Is he all right?" Piper demands.

"I don't know. He was talking to me and then I just lost him," I respond honestly.

"Then we'd better hurry," says Phoebe.

I close my eyes and send the location to Leo's mind telepathically.

"You got it?" I ask after a moment.

"Got it," he confirms. "Thanks, Hal. Thanks a lot. This really helps. Paige, could you take her home? I'll go get Chris."

"Good luck," I bid Leo before the orbs carry me away to our apartment. And I mean it.

I might have to kill him if Chris didn't come back alright.

* * *

Chris

My head is throbbing. I can literally smell my own burning flesh. Ugh, that's so gross, but true at the same time. It's happened before, though. But now I can't respond to Hal. She probably thinks I'm dead or something. At least help is on the way, or so she said.

"You were trying to contact one of your little buddies, weren't you?"

I close my eyes. Don't look at him, I think to myself. Don't look into those demon eyes. You have nothing to fear. You can beat the evil.

Barbus laughed. "You can't escape me, you know. Go on. I dare you. Try to talk to your friend again, see if I care. The second she shows up here, though, she's dead." He produced another fireball in his hand just to prove that he could before extinguishing it in midair.

His last words strike me harder than any fireball or athame ever did. Whoever comes to help me—are they going to make it out alive? What if Hal really does come unprepared? Was she really that rash?

Minutes seem to go by, though, and soon the question is: Is anybody going to save me? Ever?

* * *

Woot, woot! Who updated within a week of the previous update? I did! I did! YAY! Lol. pats self on the back Okay, I'm going to stop being conceited now, lol. It's just that that's a major accomplishment nowadays what with all this crap. I don't think I'll be able to just sit down for a duration of five minutes anytime in the next two weeks. I'm in a play on top of swimming and school and babysitting and daycare, and now we're doing the final rehearsals and performances. Some nights I don't even get home till seven thirty! Killer when it comes to homework. Booboos...anyways, I love love love writing fanfics, so I will be back soon enough! Right now, though, small child number4 (the youngest of the four kids in the house) wants the computer. (I knowwhat does an eight-year-old really intend to accomplish on the computer? Ergh!) So I must bid you all farewell.

Thanks for all the fab reviews!


	5. A Few Life Lessons

Disclaimer: You know what I should do? I should make a song about this. To the tune of Yankee Doodle:

**I do not own Charmed right now because of lack of money**

**But after just a couple drinks, Brad Kern will call me "honey" **

**There will be no limit to what I can accomplish**

**Once I own Charmed, I'll be rich and I'll buy lots of chocolate!**

I know, I know. I'm wonderful. No autographs, please, I need this hand for typing :D. lol!

* * *

A Few Life Lessons

Wyatt:

I know Leo was here, at the bridge, watching me. I decided to let him know of my decision the simplest way I could: through my expression. He saw the smile on my face as I looked upon the destruction of our society. He saw the joy I was barely managing to hold within.

He knows now that I, only I, am powerful enough to send the entire bridge hurtling to its doom.

And he knows that it's too late to change me now.

The only question is, what's my next move? There are plenty of scrawny, spineless demons in the Underworld that would follow me in a snap. But that's just what they were: scrawny and spineless. That didn't necessarily make a nice army, now, did it?

I know that no matter what I end up doing next, though, I can't forget the original mission. Now those other stupid lighter kids don't even matter anymore. They aren't powerful enough to stop me. No, it's only Chris that stands in my way. Barbas may have him now, but he'll be out soon enough. That's just the way things work in the Halliwell manor: someone gets kidnapped, there's a huge demon vanquish, that someone gets saved and then we go back to what we scraped together as our "normal" lives until such a cycle begins all over again.

So I have to kill Chris myself.

A teenager walks up to me. A tourist, by the looks of it. She has a big shirt that says: "I love San Francisco" on it.

"That's a big explosion," the teen says to me in a solemn tone.

"I know."

"Everything just went kaboom!" She flails her arms out wide to illustrate this noise.

"I know. Why are you bothering me?" I ask, losing my patience.

"Because you're happy and everyone else is sad."

I hate naïve people like this. "Okay, well, I won't be happy anymore unless you leave me alone," I say between clenched teeth, full prepared to blast the girl into oblivion if she didn't leave me alone soon.

Her lips suddenly curl into a devious smile. "Okay, mister, I suppose I'll have to speak quickly to get my point across. You're evil. I'm an assassin." She lifted her sleeve to show the mark of the phoenix on her arm. "In the Underworld, that would be good news."

Suddenly this girl seems a whole lot more appealing then she was a moment ago. "And what would be your name, phoenix?"

"Bianca."

"Well, then, Bianca…welcome to my wildest dreams." I think for a moment. "I've got just the assignment for you, too…"

She grins coyly, stepping closer to me. "An assignment? I like the way you think."

I realize with great joy the full potential of having a witch assassin as a recruit and grin back at her. She's not so bad on the eyes, either—a curvy body with straight black hair and a really nice tan. The benefits of this relationship are just screaming for a test run. "I need you to kill Chris Halliwell, my brother."

"Your brother, hmm?" she says. "Well, if he's as cute as you…" She laughs. "I've got it covered. But what would I get in return?"

I think for a moment. What would a phoenix want? Power? Yes, power. "I'll enhance your powers," I bargain. "Deal?"

"Deal, Mr. Halliwell," she confirms. "Okay. Where is he, then?"

"Down in the Underworld, with Barbas."

Bianca cringes. "This better be some good power I'm getting. I don't like going anywhere near that demon." She flips her hair out of her eyes and sighs curtly. "I'll be seeing you soon, I suspect," she says airily, shimmering out.

* * *

Chris

I think I might be dead. Could I be dead? My head still throbbed, my limbs ached from the chains, and the fireball that erupted from Barbas' anger still burned. But I had to be dead, because the girl in front of me was…would beautiful describe her? Certainly, she was beautiful, but it wasn't that that attracted me to her right away. She was intriguing, a girl of many layers; on the outside, she had dark brown hair and eyes and looked cold and unforgiving. But I could almost see something else within her…mercy? She suppressed it, though, as if it were bad.

No, I couldn't be dead, because she most definitely was not an angel. Standing before me was a demon girl, no matter how complex and fascinating she seemed—and something told me this wasn't good news.

"You're Chris?" she asks. Despite her confident demeanor, I can sense a small tremor of fear within her. She must know that Barbas is down here, or she wouldn't be so afraid.

"Who's asking?" I respond, trying not to wince.

She scoffs. "I am, you freak show."

"I could be Chris," I offer, "but then again, I could be one of Barbus' cronies." I smile wickedly.

She unconsciously takes a small inch away from me. "Barbas doesn't have any cronies," she states uncertainly.

"How do you know that?" I ask.

I can feel her fear. It's radiating off her with every one of her heartbeats. Am I evil for feeling this? I wonder. It was no surprise I could sense it, being an empath, but I didn't even have to use my powers to know she was afraid, even if it was only the littlest bit.

"You're awfully cocky for a crony that's chained down to the floor and helpless." She smiles her own wicked grin, mirroring mine only much more sinister than one that I could ever muster. "It looks like my works cut out for me. I've been sent to kill you, Chris Halliwell."

I yawn. "By my brother, right?"

"Yes, by your brother." She looms over me condescendingly and whispers in the utter silence of the underground, "Are you ready to die?"

I shrug. "I suppose."

She pauses, realizing how easily I'll let her win. I know she wants me to beg her for mercy, cry my eyes out and promise her the world in exchange for my life, but I won't give her that satisfaction. If she's going to kill me, then let her kill me. Something makes me doubt that she'd do it, though. And even if she did…how much would it matter to the rest of the world? The lighters might be sad, but they'd move on. They were emotionless at one point in their lives. They could surely do it again.

And that's when it hits me: for once in my life, all the lighter training was benefiting. I could turn off my fear. I close my eyes and try to focus on the blocking, and I'm immediately surprised by how easily I can resume my old nature.

"You welcome your own death?" she asks.

I open one of my eyes. "If fate would have it be that way, then yes," I say nonchalantly. "Are you going to kill me or not? What are you, afraid?"

Her dark eyes seem to light on fire. "I am not afraid," she hisses. "I'd watch your mouth. I can make this a lot more painful than it should be."

* * *

Leo 

The second I orb in, I realize what an idiot I am. Of course Barbas would set a trap. What kind of a fool would be naïve enough to just orb into a demon's lair and expect to orb out as if it was pie? _A fool like me, _I think grimly to myself.

My muscles seem to be stuck to the high, rocky ceiling that shadows over the underworld. Some invisible force field has pinned me to it like a web; I'm stuck here, watching my son talk to the girl that could very well be his murderer. What's he doing, provoking her like that? He's fearless, with his own life at stake.

_Fearless. _I swallow hard, watching the blank expression on my son's face. How did our lives become so twisted? What did we do wrong? One of our sons was hidden from us for eight years, living in hell, and as soon as we jumped that hurdle, the other son became a dangerous killer that would stop at nothing to show the world his power. Wyatt—that cute little baby boy that orbed all over the place while flashing his adorable dimples at us—was trying to kill Chris.

It occurs to me that we never even got to see Chris grow up. When we got Chris back, he was already an adult, in a way. And here he was, old enough to laugh in the face of death. I wish I could scream at him. I wish I could stop that girl, threatening him more with every passing second. I wish…more than any of that, I wish that I could go back in time and change everything that happened, starting from the day Wyatt was born.

But that's impossible. We can't change what's happened now.

"A lot more painful than it should be?" Chris imitates the demon.

I wince. What's he doing, mocking a demon like that? All the while, with that blank void of emotion.

"Yes." She forms a fireball that flickers and burns with a fierce light.

Chris laughs at her. "You really think that that silly thing's gonna kill me after all this?" He laughs even harder, but somehow there's no emotion to it. There's no sadness, no happiness…maybe only a hint of regret.

"You underestimate me, Chris."

"Can I ask you a question?" asks Chris airily, observing the floor. The poor kid's a bloody mess. His head's been bashed with something, his ankles and wrists were rubbed raw from his chains, and there's already a wound from what looks like a previous fireball from Barbas.

Which brings another thought—where in the hell is Barbas, anyways?

I honestly believe Chris when he says that that fireball won't kill him. He's gotta be immortal or something…he's lucky to be alive after all that has happened today.

The girl frowns sourly. "Are you trying to distract me or something?" she demands. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Because," says Chris evenly, "you intrigue me."

"I—what the hell?"

"I've never seen anything like you," Chris states. "You're evil, but at the same time you're good. You're standing at a crossroad, here. You can either kill me and choose evil or let me live and choose good." Chris gave a half-shrug. "Don't let me influence your decision, though, because it doesn't really matter to me which path you choose."

"I'm going to kill you and that's that," she fumes. "Don't give me some reverse psychology bullshit about having a good side. I was born a phoenix. I assassinate people. Deal with it." After a brief pause, she adds, "My name's Bianca."

Chris nods. Then I see what he's doing. His gaze is completely unfocused, in another world that only exists in his mind. Suddenly he seems so small, like a child trapped inside of a dark hole. I've seen him like this before. I still see it in him every now and then, and I have to shudder and try to shake it off. It's the same look he wore when he first fell from the sky.

Emotionless. Empty. Dead.

* * *

With every second, my old lighter ways are overwhelming me. I feel this great power rumbling beneath me, struggling to break free. I never lost it, I realize. I've always known that the power is there. The orbing, the healing, the shield and the energy blasts. I did it once, and I can do it again.

_This is what I've been waiting for. _

Isn't it? Isn't it what I've been waiting for?

_Yes…just a little longer…just a bit more power…_

Is that really me thinking all this? When did I ever want power? Why does this seem so right all of a sudden? I never cared about power before…I was perfectly content being away from the Embassy. I knew all I needed to know.

_Think about it, Chris. Power will solve everything. Wyatt won't be able to lay a finger on you. You can kill him. You can get revenge for all those years that people doubted you, thought you were a powerless flea. Now is the time. _

I feel stifled. I'm being smothered by this force…It's not right. I shouldn't have these thoughts. I don't want to kill Wyatt! I don't want to hurt anyone!

She's about to release the fireball. I swerve wildly, possessed by my own power. The chains are loose—I'm free from my binds. I look back at them and they're steaming from the sudden fire that just erupted from me.

Bianca's fireball extinguishes and she stares at me, wide eyed. Now the barriers have fallen. She's downright terrified of me.

Then I hear a slow, mocking clap. Barbas comes out from the shadows. "For a moment I thought you may not have it in you, my boy," he says. "Oh, but you proved me wrong. All that power…think of the possibilities," he hisses at me. He turns to Bianca. "I don't know who you are, but I have no further need of you." He raises his hand to wipe her out.

"Don't you dare," I say under my breath, conjuring a great ball of blue energy. I've seen this energy before, on the cloudy surface of the Embassy. That time it was wild and uncontrollable. This time it's focused and compact. I've gained the maturity I need to use this power. It's time to unleash it—for good, and not for anything else.

I release it and Barbas is on the ground, nothing but ashes, in less than a second.

I gasp for air, winded from the exertion. "You underestimate me, Barbas," I say, using Bianca's previous mantra.

Bianca's eyes are still wide, her arms crossed in front of her face like a shield. She lowers them slowly to stare at me. "You're not going to kill me," she deduces.

"And you're not going to kill me," I respond.

She looks down at the floor. "I'm a failure as a phoenix," she says bitterly.

"You're a hero to the rest of us," I assure her, taking a step closer to her. She flinches but doesn't move back. "Stay away from Wyatt. He's bad news. I only wish I knew that sooner…If you need me or any other witches, we'll be around."

She smiles at me, but this time it's warmer. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Good. Because when I really do kill you, I want you to be at the top of your game." With a last little twinkle in her eye, she shimmers out.

At which point, Leo orbs in.

And I, thankfully, am finally able to orb out.

* * *

I UPDATED! w00t w00t! Lol. I looooooove summertime.


	6. The Lighters' Love

Disclaimer: You know what? If fanfiction's going to make us write these stupid disclaimers, they ought to provide us with therapists to compensate for that empty, hollow feeling that BURNS IN YOUR SOUL once you finish writing it, lol:D WHO'S WITH ME? It's like, by writing a disclaimer you're basically wearing a sign on your forehead that says, "Sorry, I'm not the REAL thing, so I'm not really IMPORTANT."

Okay, okay, I'll say it. I don't own Charmed.

* * *

The Lighters' Love 

Leo

I stand there in a stupor for a moment, realizing that Chris just _orbed_. No, he didn't just orb—he demolished the most terrible foe the Charmed Ones had ever known in about ten seconds flat. My son did that.

If somebody had told me, say, a year ago—even five years ago—that one of my boys would vanquish Barbas, I would've immediately assumed it to be Wyatt. I realize that I was prejudiced right from the very beginning. But, how could I not be? I watched Wyatt grow from a little baby to a teenager. We missed so much of Chris. By the time he got back to us, he was tainted. Different than the other Halliwells.

I'd always associated "different" with "bad."

And now I'm paying for it. The first time in years that he orbs, and he orbs to get away from me. What kind of a person am I? How blind could I be, all this time, with Wyatt committing evil right and left?

All those people, murdered at the hand of something I created.

My two boys: one evil, one good. And I realize here what's going to happen. There going to be complete opposites now, no matter what I do. Nothing I do, nothing Piper does, nothing any of the sisters or Magic School could do is ever going to change them. The only thing that can change Wyatt lies in his opposite: Chris.

If there's anything I know, it's that deep down, Wyatt loves Chris. That's what scares him the most—he considers that a weakness. What kind of a sick world do we live in when love becomes a weakness? A fault? Something unwanted?

So he decided to get rid of his brother. But he wouldn't do it himself; no, he'd hire an assassin to do it. A frightened novice was to go out and kill Chris.

I admit to myself that, yes, I was afraid of Chris as well. I was afraid to love him fully because a part of me wondered if he could ever truly be a Halliwell. A part of me thought that he would never last; it was too good to be true, and he would be taken away to train as a lighter again. But did that make me a sick person? I'm not sure. It does make me a negligent person, though. Chris was clearly trying to point Wyatt in the right direction, and all I did was make it harder for him by accusing him of doing the things that Wyatt was really responsible for.

I sigh, knowing full well that I have no right to try to follow Chris now. He obviously needs time alone to sort things out—but how long would he last out there? Could he heal himself?

I bite my lip, pacing Barbas' pit in the Underworld, and try to decide what the right thing to do is.

* * *

Chris

This time, I know where I'm going before I finish the orb. I think to myself, "What the hell? I destroyed this place. I hate this place. Everything that I've ever despised in myself, in other people, in the world, is RIGHT HERE."

But I feel so calm and at peace with myself. Relieved, almost, to finally be here after so long. This is the only familiar place I've ever known. This is where I grew up, and first learned right from wrong…well, "right" from "wrong." The elders had twisted views, and they were cruel, and life up here was miserable, but it was all I had when I was little. My friends were always here with me, always willing to lend a hand and reach out when there was nothing, always so safe.

The only problem was that I was dead alone up here, where the Embassy used to stand.

Yes, the Embassy. The ruins look exactly the same as they did so many years ago when I blew the place up. I open my eyes again and expect to feel tears rising in them, but I don't. I can't cry. Not in this place, at least. All I can think about is the consequences of displaying emotion.

I try not to stick on the negatives of this place. If it hadn't been for these elders, I wouldn't be as strong as I was today. I wouldn't have been able to deal with Wyatt. Maybe I wouldn't even be alive right now—Bianca could've killed me if I hadn't known what to do. I wouldn't be nearly as intelligent and careful as I am now, either. I owe my life to those elders, no matter how badly they screwed it up in the process. _I owe them my life. _

But how much was my life worth in the big picture? Not very much. I'm not going to change the world. I can't even get my own parents to believe that I'm innocent half the time.

I sigh. I can't go back there just yet, no matter how bad the injuries. I was taught to deal with pain, right in this very place where I stand. Maybe that's why I'm here right now. It's so easy to just move on and forget pain when you're here.

And then I realize I'm not alone anymore.

* * *

Hal 

"Hey," I say softly.

Chris winces. "Hey."

A silence passes through the air between us. We don't need to use words; not here, in the Embassy. The connection between us here, as it is between all of the lighters, is stronger than a connection between anyone else on Earth.

Minutes pass, but it seems like an eternity. Everything on the Embassy seems like forever. On Earth, everybody's always hurrying, trying to get on with their lives. They try to beat the clock—we were slaves to it.

We both sit on a fallen pillar from what used to be a mighty, condescending building we lived in. I never thought I'd be up here again, facing this place in this state. I wonder why it hasn't been cleared away yet; all these years and the mess seems to have been ignored. Looking around, I realize what this is to the elders.

It's a display of what they created. They created this power—the power that sent this whole place to its doom—through Chris. _They _were the ones that improved his abilities until he got so fed up that he did the impossible.

"You need to go back down there, you know," I break the silence.

"Yeah." He looks down at the pillar, where his blood has stained it deep red. "But it's not going to be easy."

I nod my head in agreement. "It never is. Every time we have a meeting, all the lighters in one place, it's…just not easy to come back to reality. To these new families, these wonderful people, who will try their best to understand but never really get what it was like. Nothing can separate the lighters, no matter what."

Chris smiles. "No matter what."

I smile back.

"I bet your family's worried," I remind him. "They were pretty preoccupied with looking for you, you know. You should at least tell them you're alive. They might think you're dead, what with the…" I motion to the various wounds and burns.

Chris laughs bitterly. "We both know that this could never kill me. Not after what happened here."

"Yeah, but they don't know that."

"I guess you're right."

"They're probably going to need you now more than ever, too," I say to him seriously.

"Why?" he asks. "Why would they need me? They have Wyatt." Then his face, if anything, fell even further. "But now Wyatt's…"

"Evil," I finish for him.

Chris pauses, thinking to himself. His voice cracks as he says, "I guess this is why he wasn't made a lighter. He was never pure."

"But Chris, I don't think that's why he wasn't made one. He wasn't born tainted. We're all born pure and innocent. What bad can a little baby do? We were chosen because we'd stay pure—constantly and unchangingly pure. Other human beings aren't made that way, but they can change."

"I don't know if Wyatt can change. He's already done so much, killed so many people. He just tried to kill me!"

I gasp. "But…"

Chris nods. "He sent an assassin. Luckily, I managed to get her to change her mind before killing me. She was good on the inside."

"And maybe Wyatt is, too," I say softly.

Chris is silent.

"What I mean is, if you can change an assassin…changing Wyatt isn't impossible. I think that's your purpose right now, Chris. Saving the people that might suffer at the hands of your brother. It's your destiny to change him—and the world—for the better."

Chris raises his eyebrows. "But not without you all."

I nudge him. "Like you could get rid of us if you tried," I tease.

He laughs, and suddenly there's a soft blue glow forming around him. The wounds close up and the scars fade away. He's a whole and normal Chris.

"Never could do that before," he comments.

"You're getting more powerful," I explain. "Just think of what you could do."

"I don't want to think about that," he says, shuddering. I realize what he means: he could end up the same way Wyatt is.

"You know you're stronger than him, don't you?"

"How could anyone know who's stronger? We're brothers. Besides, he's practiced his powers way more than I have, and he has powers that mean something. I can have premonitions and feel emotions. That's all that's happened these past few years. Just now I orbed and healed myself, but what good's that gonna do if I can only do it sporadically?"

"What exactly happened back there?"

"Oh," says Chris, as if just remembering the events after being hit on the head. "I vanquished Barbas."

I cock an eyebrow. "With your 'lame' premonitions and emotion-reading?"

"No," he admits. "It was the same thing the caused this." He motions to the ruins again.

I sigh. "But it's not power that caused you to have that power. That's what's so ironic to me, I think. It's that, you know, we were trained not to have emotions. We couldn't love anyone or anything. It was forbidden. And yet…when we were saved, we were the ones that loved more than anyone else. Loving was never forbidden to Wyatt, and he abused it. Just another example…"

"Of how being up here really did benefit all of us," Chris finishes. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"You ready to orb back down, then?"

"Uh…"

"C'mon, Chris, you gotta face them eventually."

Chris blushes. "It's not that. It's just that I don't know whether I can orb on command or not."

"Great."

And then we start laughing like we've never laughed before. It's irrational, unexplainable and completely random. But sometimes you just need to laugh, even when everything's gone wrong.

* * *

Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Sorry for not updating. I got swim team and...and...(SOBS LOUDLY) Our team, our UNBEATABLE SWIM TEAM just LOST A SWIM MEET. Okay, okay, you're probably all, "One swim meet...shut up and quit crying." BUT YOU DON'T GET IT. Our team's been UNBEATEN for five years--that's 29 swim meets! 29! That's a hell of a lotta meets. People quake in fear when they hear the name of our team. We're in Division 1--the highest division out of, like, more than 18 in the state. And we were the BEST in that division, literally making us the BEST team in the state. Yeah. Believe it. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS BURNS? WE LOST TO SOME OTHER TEAM. UGH. UGH. Ugh. So now we're not the best of the best of the best anymore. I kinda think the coaches were a little too obsessed with winning, though, so it's a bit refreshing to get a slap in the face like that. It's almost like the coaches are only nicey-nice to their fastest swimmers--the ones that will win meets for them--and ignore the rest of us. All they talk about is winning. I do swim team for fun and to stay fit. I don't think winning is everything--it really bugs me that they're making a big deal out of it. People are crying, the coaches are, like, dead silent. It's like a funeral over there. I don't even want to go to practice on Monday, even though it's the last practice of the summer before year-round starts up in September. It's just awful. It's too depressing--and why in the bloody hell should we be sobbing over a swim meet when there are people dying horrible deaths all over the world?

Wow, this rant needs to end RIGHT NOW. Sorry lol. Needed to vent.

R&R!


	7. The End of the Beginning

Disclaimer: Yet another day has gone by, and I still don't own anything. (SIGH) lol.

* * *

The End of the Beginning

Mel

Bran and Bree look like they were about ready to collapse and fall asleep. It isn't that late—only about nine o'clock—but already their eyelids are drooping. In a moment here I'm going to be sitting alone, trying to suppress my fury at my uncle.

I feel as though it's literally burning me. I can feel Chris, almost, in an outside-of-body way. I can't feel his pain, but I am aware of it. Wherever he is, he's hurt and he's in danger. Not to mention downright pissed off. That's pretty unusual for my cousin, considering where he came from…not allowed to have emotions or anything. But I know Chris has plenty.

I was pretty little when he came back from the Embassy. I can't remember much about it, really—just the adults talking about it and not explaining anything to me. I understood what had happened a few years later, when I thought to ask Chris himself; that was around the time that he offered to start training me. If it wasn't for him, I would probably be flunking Magic School on all accounts.

And for all I know, he's going to die.

Like my mother, I have premonitions, only they're pretty limited. They happen maybe once a month, and very rarely have to do with anything relevant. Usually they involve tying my shoelaces or opening the front door—ooo, couldn't see _that _coming, now, could I? You see what I mean. So what good are premonitions if you can't even find out what's going to happen to your cousin?

For all intents and purposes, Chris was my brother more than Wyatt's. I'm lucky I don't remember the Embassy and when he came to join us; so are Bran and Bree. I just accepted him when he came into my life, and Bran and Bree were born shortly after that. For us, it was perfect. We never avoided him because he was different. We never doubted his ability to love. We never accused him of wrong deeds he didn't commit.

The others did. Even though they didn't mean to, they most certainly did just that.

I feel a shift; Chris is no longer angry. He's…blank. This happens once in a while, so I don't get too alarmed. It's just the side affects of the Embassy, I suppose. Where could he be, that he'd go back to that trance of his?

Chris baffled me sometimes with his odd emotions. Randomly, I'd find traces of anger, bitterness, sadness or regret. But they only lasted for mere moments, and then the rest of the time he was mellow and content. The only emotion I'd never felt from him was fear. Why, when he was trapped somewhere in the Underworld, in pain and maybe even in the clutches of a demon, was he not fearful?

"Mel?" Bree asks me drowsily.

I squint to my cousin, barely making out the mess of brown hair on her head. "Yeah, Bree-bee?" I say, using the special name I created for her.

"Did Uncle Leo find Chris yet?"

I sigh. "No, honey. Sorry."

"Why not? Where is he?"

I give her a shaky smile, even though she can't see me in the dark. "Don't worry, Bree-bee," I assure her, even though my voice cracks. "I'm sure he'll be home by morning. He'll be fine, okay? Now get some sleep."

She yawned. "But…" she protests, right before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

I watch her. There was a time where I was frightened of things I wasn't sure of, and Chris was always the one to comfort me as I did Bree. If Chris didn't make it back…what would I do? Who would tell me that everything was okay when I started freaking out in the middle of the night? Who would protect the three of us from Wyatt when the adults had no time?

I shiver. Without Chris, we'd be completely lost.

I close my eyes and try to reach out to him again. I smile in relief; now he's somewhere safe. No longer in pain, and safe. He's…content again. There is no anger. Only determination. That's the Chris I know.

Out of nowhere, I feel I'm being sucked into a void. The present world spins out from under me and I'm in the attic, in another time.

The walls are musty and uncared for; a young man and woman are standing before an empty altar. I cannot hear their words, but the brown-haired boy is muttering a spell. The Book of Shadows materializes; then I hear their words loud and clear.

"Remember the mission, Chris. Go back in time to save Wyatt. Don't let the girls know who you really are; you're our only hope."

"I know, Bianca. Just promise me you'll be careful."

The girl smirks. I see a strange mark on her upper arm and mentally note this. "I can take care of myself…trust me. You just need to come back alive. For _us._"

Chris—my cousin, eight years in the future—nods. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Wait—what do I tell Mel and the twins?" Bianca asks as he finishes the verse and a portal opens.

Chris' face falls. He suddenly looks as if he's aged ten year, the guilt and remorse written all over him. "Tell them…" he gulps. "Tell them that I'm dead. It'll be better that way. Besides, I won't be gone for too long…"

"I hope."

He walks into the portal, and I'm sucked out of the vision. But as I'm leaving, I realize that for the first time, something foreign in that vision assaulted me: Chris, overwhelmed with fear for the first time.

"_Chris!"_ I hear my mother scream from the hall.

Shaken by the vision, at first I don't move.

"Oh, thank God, you're home!"

Chris is home. Chris is going to stay at home, and he's not going to die anytime soon. We'll be safe, the three of us, for years to come—and then Chris is going to save us all. The comfort of knowing that is enough for me now. It'll get me through Wyatt's cruelty, it will get me through all the dark nights when I'm afraid. Just like when I was little and Chris told me it would be okay, he was going to protect us in the future as well.

"Bran, Bree." I shake them awake. Their doe-like brown eyes widen. "Chris is home."

* * *

Chris

"Okay, okay, let's call Paige or something," Hal says seriously. She lets out a long, squawking hiccup and we erupt in laughter again. We're close to tears now; whether from joy or regret, neither of us know.

"Paige?" I say into the air once we've calmed. "Paige, we're up at the Embassy."

She orbs in a flash. "Chris," she whispers. Her eyes are watery and she smiles. "Hey."

"Hey," I reply, smiling back at her. "I'm ready to come home now."

"What happened?" she asks.

"Not right now," says Hal. "We're all tired. Maybe tomorrow he can do the grand tale justice."

I flash her a grateful expression as Paige takes our hands and orbs out. First we end up at Hal's, but before I can even so much as wave, we've orbed back to the manor. I feel my stomach drop at the thought of facing Leo after all of this.

"Chris!" Aunt Phoebe practically launches herself on top of me in a hug. "Oh, thank God, you're home! When Leo showed up without you…" She shudders. "We thought you might be…"

"I'm fine, Aunt Phoebe," I assure her.

She releases me and stares straight into my eyes. I wonder if she can see right through to my soul. "No, you're not. No one is. But someday…" She sighs.

"Piper!" Aunt Paige calls. "Piper, he's back."

I can hear my mother's footsteps clamoring up the stairs before I can see her. She stops dead when she sees me, overcome with some mixture of emotions. She looks like she might explode; then finally she bursts out into sobs and hugs me.

"I had no idea," she choked. "If I'd known that Wyatt…"

"You couldn't have, Mom."

"I'm so sorry…"

"It wasn't your fault," I say to her. "Wyatt isn't all bad. I know that he's still good in there somewhere. We can bring him back." But even as I say "we" I know that that means "I." This is a task for me, and me alone.

"Oh, Chris…We've been so unfair." She wiped a tear on her sleeve. "And Barbas nearly murdered you! I can't believe you—you vanquished him…Leo told me—you could easily have been killed yourself…And it's all because Leo didn't get his facts straight and he left you there. I promise, Chris, that'll never happen again."

"Can you make Dad promise that?" I ask, remembering all the times I'd been punished for things Wyatt had done.

She doesn't respond. Leo's standing at the top of the stairs, watching the scene unfold. He's so close to me that I can feel the intensity pulsing through the air, yet so far away that he seems like a complete stranger. That's what he was to me before the Embassy crumbled, wasn't it? A stranger. And here we are, back at square one.

"Yes, she can," Leo says. "I'm so sorry, Chris. I wish I could go back in time to change everything, but that's not within my power right now."

"Not within _your _power, but…"

Everyone whips around to see a pajama-clad Mel with Bran and Bree. She was staring at me in the exact way her mother did only moments before. Only she wasn't searching me like Phoebe…she was looking at me expectantly. _This is your path_, she seems to say.

I nod at her.

"…within someone else's."

I swallow hard. Time travel? Is that my fate? Could I change…everything?

If I could change the past and make it better, I think to myself, what would I change? What would stop Wyatt from becoming evil? What could change him so he wouldn't be jealous and bitter, then evolve into cold and power-starved?

The Embassy?

"We'll find a way, though," I vow. _Even if it kills me, I will find a way. _

* * *

THE END

All right, guys, I'm going to finish "Twist of Fate" and maybe "Into the Woods," but then I'm gonna go on the down-low for a while. I think my parents are reading this stuff. No comment as they may be reading it right now.

I gotta go anyways since my sister's doing that ants-in-my-pants "GIVE-ME-THE-COMP-OR-I-MAY-DIE" dance about five feet away. Yeahhhhhh, it's weird.


End file.
